by Stacey | Jul 10, 2014 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
For years, intense worry plagued me. It manifested itself in a recognizable pattern. Something would happen, or someone would say something, or I would see or read about some tragedy or disaster, then I would play out every “what if” scenario in my mind.
What if this happened to me? What if something happens to my spouse or my kids? Where is God?
Then, I turned to others, discussing options, what might happen, what might NOT happen. Talking the issue to death. I felt little need to bring the matter before God and truly seek His face and wait on Him. I had already worked the issue out with my girlfriends.
Once God shed light onto this sin, He gave me the strength and desire to change. I pledged to no longer discuss worrisome issues with friends until AFTER I discussed them with Him. And I made a choice – a choice to take God at His Word.
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:6-8).”
The truth is, I live in a fallen world where tragedies happen, and God never promised to shield His children from them all. People get hurt, taken advantage of, and abused. A number of things could enter my life that would be more than I can handle. But it is never more than God can handle.
It has been years since my last wrestling match with fear, a sweet victory that I attribute to the Lord. I took Philippians 4 to heart and brought my concerns to Him. Then, I cut out everything that encouraged me to dwell on images or words that pushed my imagination into overdrive, including the evening news and reading the newspaper. The peace of God which transcends all understanding flooded my life.
2 Corinthians 10:5 “…take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”
by Stacey | Jun 12, 2014 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
The greatest danger to ministry is me (Pastor Todd Dugard).
That statement has stuck with me. The greatest danger to ministry is me, because there is always temptation to make ministry about me.
Or at the very least about how it affects me.
I have this horrible self-absorbed tendency to wonder about my needs, about how I feel, and about how I appear to others—even in the midst of ministry. It’s disgusting. I’ve struggled with this me-first mentality for as long as I can remember, from birth really. But it intensified in my twenties. It intensified when well-intended people cautioned me against the hardships of ministry life. They shone a light upon the unfair microscope that hovers over ministry families, clucked their tongues over the despair ahead of me, and they told me, at all costs, to protect myself.
Although they meant well, they set me on a path of me-focused thinking rooted in a belief that I deserved more than this unfair sacrifice.
It is a sin—yes, SIN—to allow ME to consume my thoughts. When I am full to the rim of myself there is no room for God, making it far too easy to twist the things I intend to do for the Lord until they serve me.
Far too easy.
One day the Lord is coming, and everything will burn but what was done in pure worship of Him (Pastor Todd Dugard).
Yikes.
It can be HARD to step out of the spotlight and into the shadows. It can be hard to invite Pure Light to burn away any lingering crumbs of self that remain in my service to Him. It is especially hard if I have built a life that thrives on the applause of the crowd instead of the approval of One.
But I’ve been learning to do just that. And I suspect that the difficulties that God chooses to allow in ministry, the very difficulties well-intended friends warned me of, have less to do fairness and more to do with the sifting of my heart. God is using the hardships and injustice of life to expose my sin and my heart. My pride, independence, and longing for control, to name a few.
Oh, how I need more of Christ and less of me. How I long for the day when the struggle within will cease and I will spend eternity in PURE WORSHIP of Him.
by Stacey | May 22, 2014 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
Twenty-one years. Twenty-one long years of praying, crying and waiting on God with expectation.
Twenty-one years of unchanged sameness.
Some days it is hard to believe. HARD. When doubt beats down stronger than the prairie sunshine and seeks to evaporate those last dew-drop of faith IT IS HARD.
How does a broken heart keep believing?
The faith required to keep on keeping on isn’t conjured up inside of me. It doesn’t depend on my strength or ability. This faith springs not from accomplishing or obtaining the what but in knowing the Who. The author and perfecter of faith, Jesus Christ. It’s about Him. God will do what He said He will do. It’s His name on the line. His glory.
Any faith found in me is written by Him. Even the faith to keep taking Him at His Word.
So twenty-one years later, I trudge onward. Acting on the faith I don’t always feel, but believe and know to be true. This lifetime of waiting doesn’t mean God is not acting. I must believe. I must believe. I must believe in the God who loves me, saved me, and hears my prayers.
He hears.
And His heart beats harder, aches deeper, and loves his lost children even more than my heart does.
My broken, desperate, invested heart.
I must believe.
He is good.
Always.
by Stacey | May 15, 2014 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
The only comforting words in times of grief are the words of God. So today, as my family grieves the loss of another loved one, I offer only His words for they are the only words that matter.
You formed her inward parts; you knitted her together in her mother’s womb. I praise you, for she was fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. Her frame was not hidden from you, when she was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw her unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for her, when as yet there was none of them (Psalm 139:13-16).
And because her death did not surprise God, and I know she loved Jesus with her whole heart, I do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For I believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so I believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him (1 Thessalonians 4:14). Including her.
And as I wait for that glorious day of Jesus’ return, when those who live in Him will be reunited with those who died in Him to forever worship Him, I offer praise to the God and Father of my Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts me in all my troubles, so that I can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort I myself received from God (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).
Death makes me HATE sin. And death stirs such a longing for heaven where He will wipe every tear from my eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away (Revelation 21:4).
May Your words, O Lord, bring peace and comfort to my soul.
by Stacey | Apr 24, 2014 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
I remember when my parents could do anything, and when my Dad was the strongest and smartest man alive. I remember when my mom’s word was law and how she never stopped moving, always cooking and cleaning. I grew up happy, safe, warm and loved. (That’s me on the far left.)
Now, I’m a mom. I have kids that look at me with adoring and trusting eyes. They, like I did, believe that money grows on trees, the cupboards will always be full, and that they could never, ever, hurt my feelings.
Oh, the blissful ignorance of youth.
I’m not the strongest or the smartest. I struggle every day to gather the energy to wipe their faces, feed their bellies, and to smile through the tears as their sometimes hurtful words pierce my heart.
Just like my parents did.
I battle feelings of guilt, sure that I’m on the cusp of some irreparable mistake that will scar them for life. I work to exhaustion because there is never enough time, energy, or answers. I must lack what they need because, if I’m honest, I’ll admit that I have no idea what their real physical needs are. Not really.
Do they need to be homeschooled? Public schooled? Private schooled? Do they need more time with mom and dad? Less?
Do they need more social times with friends their age? More opportunities to shine outside the family unit?
Do they need firmer boundaries? Fewer boundaries? Consequences? Grace?
I don’t know.
And neither did my parents.
And maybe that’s okay.
Maybe it’s okay that this mom doesn’t have all the answers. Maybe what I really need is to spend more time praying, more time examining my own heart, actions, and choices. Maybe it’s less about what my kids are (or are not) doing, and more about how I am reacting to it. Maybe, what God is trying to teach me at this moment, is not how to be a better mom to my children, but how to be a more obedient and loving daughter to Him.
Maybe this season isn’t just about shaping them, but it’s also about shaping me.
My parents made mistakes. Their parents made mistakes. I’m going to make mistakes. But I serve a God who can take the ashes of my mistakes and create something beautiful.
